Orphans and Scholars
by EJ3
Summary: Alexander Scott returns from vacation to find that his partner is in the hospital -again!


Orphans and Scholars

EJ McFall

"Well, Scotty, it looks like you'll have a few extras days in the archive room." Russ Conway said as he casually flipped through a stack of papers on his desk. "Kelly is on medical leave until next week."

"Medical leave?" Alexander Scott leaned forward in his chair. He'd just returned to headquarters and had been immediately called into Conway's office. He knew right then that something was up. "What happened to Kelly? And why didn't anyone contact me?"

"You were on vacation and Kelly wasn't hurt that badly."

Uh-huh. Scott forced himself to remain calm while Conway did his little evasive dance. Whatever had happened to his partner, their supervisor was feeling more than a little responsible. "Ok. Ok. So what happened?"

"The FBI requested assistance dealing with some domestic terrorists, so Kelly volunteered to liaison with them. Things got a little rough before the FBI was able to extract him, but none of his wounds were life-threatening so he'll be back on duty in no time."

"Domestic terrorists?" Scott studied Conway's face for signs of deception. He didn't like what he saw. "What terrorists?"

"Scotty—"

"It's a simple question, Russ. What domestic terrorist group did you send my partner to play footsie with?"

"The KKK."

"The KKK?" Scott shook his head in disbelief. "The fine gentlemen with the sheets and the burning crosses? That's who you sent Kelly to hang out with?"

"He's a trained agent. He…"

"Who backed him up? Who?" Scott read the answer on Conway's face. "Just the FBI? None of our people?"

"It was an FBI operation. Kelly was just on loan to them."

"Why?" Scott was truly confused. Their agency had enough of their own problems to deal with. There was no reason for Conway to be loaning his partner out to the FBI or anyone else. "Kelly doesn't have any Klan expertise."

"No." Russ sighed, unable to avoid the truth any longer. "But he's been a Klan target for years."

"What?" Scott leaned across the desk, ordered his hands not to grab Conway and give him a good shake. "I must be having problems with my hearing, because I could not have heard what you just said."

"Every year, Kelly Robinson –international jet-setting tennis player –gets hundreds of letters at his post office box. Most are from star-struck women, some are from star-struck men and some of them…" Conway held out a fat accordion envelope "…are from people who don't agree with all the nice things he says about his black trainer in all those interviews he gives."

Scott glanced through the bulging envelope. The letters were addressed to the 'nigger-lover', 'race traitor', and 'liberal fag', among other slurs. None of them were complimentary of Kelly's tennis skills. "How long has he been getting these?"

"For six years. As long as Alexander Scott -noted sports trainer - has been getting all of those threatening letters about not knowing his place."

"Yeah, but…that's me." Scott shook his head. "I didn't know Kel had to read all this crap."

"Actually, he hasn't read any of it in years. The staff picks out his fan letters and files the rest."

"So when the FBI came looking for an irresistible target that they could stake out for the KKK …"

"The first name that came to mind was Kelly's."

"But why would he risk his life for something that's not even agency business?"

"You have to ask that, Scotty? "

"No. Leave it to Kel to go running off thinking he's Robin Hood or Superman or something…" Scott turned back to Conway. "But you still should have told me what he was up to. I wouldn't have let him go off by himself. The man has no common sense when he thinks he's out there saving the world."

Conway shook his head. "You know better than that, Scotty. You couldn't have gone on that assignment. The odds were too great. We wouldn't have risked losing you."

"But you can risk losing Kelly?"

Conway shrugged. "With all your degrees and your knowledge of languages, you're valuable property –hard to replace. Kelly is one of our orphans – loyal, but expendable."

"One of your orphans? Just what the hell do you mean by that?"

"Don't be naïve. You know we have two major sources of agents. People like you, who have families, but skills we need. And people like Kelly, who has no home but the agency, so he has no distractions on the job."

"And the orphans are expendable." Scott took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. "Well, I must say, Russ, it's always enlightening talking with you. Now, if you don't mind, I think I'll go see what kind of shape my non-expendable partner is in after playing tag with our friends in the sheets."

ISISIS

Scott walked down the halls of the military hospital, nodded to familiar faces. He'd lost track of all the times he'd gone to this particular building looking for his partner, much less how many times he'd gone to similar buildings in other countries. Though the two of them both incurred injuries on the job, Kelly's always seemed to be the more serious. Of course, that might have something to do with their boss' tendency to stake him out like a goat for whatever nasty two-legged prey they were after.

"Hello, Mr. Scott." A pretty nurse looked up from her station. "I wondered when we'd be seeing you."

"Sorry, Gloria. I was out of town on vacation." Scott dumped a duffle bag onto the counter. "Can I see his file?"

"I've got it right here." Gloria handed over Kelly's file, then smiled at the shocked look on her coworker's face. "Chelsea here is new. This is Alexander Scott, Kelly Robinson's partner and his next of kin as far as his paperwork goes. He has his power of attorney."

"Good to meet you, Chelsea." Scott flipped through the file. "It doesn't look too bad this time. When can he go home?"

"We're just waiting for his doctor and the agency to sign off on his release form."

Scott nodded, while writing on the front cover of the file before handing it back to Gloria. "That's the number of my answering service. Next time Kelly's in here and you don't see me, give me a call. Especially if it looks like it's finally time to pull the plug on the guy. Wouldn't want to miss that one, not after all the years of grief he's given me. "

"Will do." Gloria smiled as she put the file away. "He's in 212."

"Thank you, my dear." Scott saluted the nurses before heading down the hallway. He paused outside the room to make sure Kelly wasn't entertaining anyone of the feminine persuasion. Hearing nothing suspicious, he pasted on a smile and went inside. "Hey, Herman, what's up?"

Scott was met by silence. Kelly lay on his side, either sleeping or drugged. An angry red rope burn slashed across his throat. "Aw, Kel…" Scott gently traced the mark on his partner's neck with his fingertips, trying not to picture the man hanging from a noose while crazies in white robes chanted obscenities. Anger -at their boss, at the agents who were supposed to be providing back-up, at Kelly for taking such a stupid risk - welled up inside as he realized how close he must have come to losing his friend.

"Kelly, wake up." Scott sat on the bed and shook the man with progressively more force. "Kel, come on, man. Rise and shine."

"Go way." Kelly mumbled, his eyes still closed. "I gave at the office."

"Nope. No can do." Scott pried open Kelly's eyes. "Time to open your peepers."

"Would you stop?" Kelly batted Scott away. "I'm trying to have an indecent dream here."

"Well, do it on your own time. I came all the way across town to visit you. Through traffic and dogs and wind and everything."

"Well, Holmes, my man." Kelly's voice was raspy. "Whatever are you doing here in my humble abode? You're supposed to be enjoying Mom's good home cooking."

"I'm back from vacation, Herman." Scott glanced at the clipboard hanging on the end of Kelly's bed, reassured himself that his partner's vital signs were as close to normal as they ever got. "What are you doing in here, other than wasting the taxpayers' hard-earned money?"

"True true. I have been a lousy excuse for a public servant, lying about while beautiful nurses fight over the chance to care for me." Kelly sat up slowly, holding his side and wincing as he did so. "How's Mom?"

"She's good. Sent back some homemade cookies for you." Scott unceremoniously unbuttoned Kelly's pajama top. "Let's see your ribs. Your file says they're cracked, but they feel broken to me."

"Excuse me, sir, but if you are going to be putting your hands on me, you're going to have to buy me a drink first. Some twelve-year-old brandy will do."

"Yeah? What about your friends with the sheets? What'd they buy you before they hung you from a tree?"

"Shows how much you know, Holmes. They did not hang me from a tree. They hung me from a cross."

"A burning one, I hope."

"Of course. Yours truly only goes first class."

"Glad to hear it." Scott carefully removed the IV from Kelly's arm. "Because I would not want to hear that my partner was strung up in a less-than-first-class manner."

"Now, truly sir, what are you doing with that IV, which may be the only thing keeping your humble servant from crossing the River…the River…"

"The River Styx." Scott retrieved a spare set of Kelly's clothes from his duffle bag. "I am taking you home, Jack, being as you cannot be trusted not to do stupid things when you are left unsupervised."

"Stupid things?" Kelly drew back in mock disgust. "Here I am, your dyed-in-the-wool regulation Captain Marvel, trying to save the world from evilness in truly ugly sheets and you, sir, you have the audacity to call me…what did you call me?"

"I did not call you anything, Watson. I simply pointed out that you do stupid things like go into the deep, uncivilized South all alone just so you can walk around saying 'Here I am, a pretty white liberal, please come and lynch me.'"

"Well, now, Holmes, we can't let yahoos like that think it's ok to hang people from trees just for fun, now can we?"

"No, we cannot. But the next time you go off on a suicide mission, at least have enough sense to call your partner so he knows where to pick up the body."

"Now what would Mom say if I broke up your vacation like that? She'd never knit me another scarf."

"Of course she would." Scott helped Kelly into his shirt, mindful of his injured ribs. "She loves you like a son, Kel. Haven't you figured that one out yet?"

"Aw, well, she…She's a lovely lady, your Mom." Kelly cleared his throat, which made him groan and rub his neck. "So tell me, Holmes, why for are you dressing me up? Has our Uncle Sam called his most faithful nephews back into the field?"

"No, sir. We are still on vacation." Scott handed Kelly his jeans. "We are going to go home and rest up before we're sent off to save the world again."

"But truly, sir, you are mistaken. I have no home. I am James Bond, zipping from mission to mission in my nifty spy car, blowing with the wind and leaving behind no proof that I was ever in town. Just like that gunfighter, who came into town, saved the day and rode into the sunset on his horse. What was his name?"

"They all ride into the sunset at the end of the movie."

"True true, but this one…."

"Listen to me, Kel. You are not the wind. You know that, don't you? You have a home and a family." Scott caught Kelly as he tried to turn away, and forced him to make eye contact. "You and me, we're brothers. You know that, don't you, Hoby? You don't think I'd notice if some cretins lynch you while I'm off stuffing myself with sweet potato pie?"

"Aw, Holmes…"

"No, man. You're not shaking me off this time." Scott tightened his grip on his friend. "Repeat after me. I am not expendable."

"You are not expendable."

"I swear, Kel, if you don't shape up I'm going to slap you into next week, I don't care how much pain you're in."

"Ok, Holmes, Ok." Kelly smiled weakly. "I get the point. I won't go off and get myself lynched next time you're on vacation. Ok?"

"No, it's not ok, but it's probably the best I'm gonna get." Scott rubbed his temples, fending off the headache he always got when his superiors decided to toss his partner's life away. Nothing short of seeing Kelly back on his feet was going to eliminate it. "Now do you have shoes around here or are you going to have to go home in your bare feet?"

"What? You didn't bring me any shoes?"

"No, I figured you were wearing some when they strung you up."

"Well, of all the …"

"Excuse me, Mr. Scott…" Chelsea knocked shyly at the door, held out a prescription bottle. "Mr. Robinson's painkillers. Gloria thought you might be going to leave , so…"

"Ah, yes, the wonderfulness of Gloria." Scott pocketed the pills.

"And his shoes are in the closet." Chelsea giggled before darting down the hall.

"Now there, you see." Kelly grumbled his way to the closet. "Look what you've done. Made us a laughing stock in front of that beautiful girl."

"I think she'll get over it, Herman." Scott couldn't help grinning as Kelly grabbed his shoes and followed Chelsea down the hall. He quickly gathered up his partner's few belongings and followed. He vowed, as he waited for Kelly to exchange phone numbers with Chelsea, that the next time he went home to Philadelphia, he'd take his errant partner with him. Because the life expectancy of an agency orphan was far too short. Especially if he didn't have an adopted brother to watch his back.


End file.
